Billionaire's Second Chance

“You know, maybe he’ll come back, Pop,” I said, trying to find the bright side of what was obviously a sad memory for my grandfather.

“Why the hell would I want him to come back now?” Pop barked. “We’ve already done all the hard work raising you. What the hell could he offer now?”

“Nothing, Pop,” I said trying to reassure him even though, deep inside, I really wanted to see my parents again.

Pop had passed away in his sleep just before I made my first million in the online business, but neither my mother nor my father had come back to Chicago for his funeral. Gram had said the guilt of my father’s absence killed him, but I knew that it was far more likely that the years of working in the meat packing plant had wrecked his health.

When I said I thought my parents were selfish people, Gram had simply smoothed the hair back from my face and smiled knowingly saying, “Pain works itself out in different ways, David. Just remember that.”

Now, standing in front of the enormous wall of windows watching the sun rise high over the water, I wished that my grandfather was here so I could talk to him and tell him what I was about to do. I knew it was a huge risk I was taking, but I also knew exactly why I was doing it and that made me slightly uncomfortable.

“I’m not sure if it’s the right thing to do, Pop,” I whispered as I leaned my forehead against the cool glass and closed my eyes. “But I gotta try.”

Chapter Eighteen

Payton

A little more than 24 hours after Dax and I agreed to the terms of our deal, I watched a team of burly men remove my things from the apartment my parents had rented for me before Daddy died. I wasn’t taking much more than my clothes, some artwork, and a few pieces of furniture, so the movers were done loading the truck pretty quickly, but I noticed the movers sneaking peeks at me as they moved in and out of the apartment. I pretended not to notice as I wondered which one of them would be the first to sell photos of the move to TMZ or the National Enquirer.

When I asked if they knew where they were taking my things, the guy in charge assured me that everything was taken care of and that all I needed to do was meet them at the penthouse and tell them where to place the furniture. I took a last look around the apartment before I closed and locked the door.

I’d decided to keep the keys for as long as my mother continued to pay the rent on the place. I knew that given our stubborn natures, there was a good chance I’d want to spend a night or two someplace other than the penthouse and this seemed like a safe hideaway for those times. I tried not to let the emotions overwhelm me, but as I looked around the place, I recalled the last time I saw Daddy.

He’d stopped by for a visit after his monthly trip to the hospital where he’d undergone his usual tests and then stopped to visit the children’s ward and bring the kids some Bears t-shirts and caps. He was always a big hit with the kids, but the fact that, more often than not, one or two of the children he’d met on the ward had died in the month between visits weighed heavily on him.

Daddy would always stop by my place after his ritual and we’d drink coffee and play cards until late in the evening. Sometimes we’d talk about Jonathan, and Daddy was always careful to mention that Mother missed him, too. I would nod, but I would resent the fact that he would spoil the warmth of our time together by telling me a lie.

“Stop it, Payton,” I said, shaking my head to clear my mind of the memory. “You’re moving on to bigger and better things. Let it go.”

I slowly closed the door and turned the key in the lock. It sounded too final.

#

Two hours later, I was ushered into my new living quarters by a man who informed me that he was the building supervisor. I was annoyed that Dax wasn’t there since he’d agreed to be around on moving day so we could go through the final draft of the contract I’d typed up and then sign it.

“Where’s Mr. Connor?” I asked.

“He was unexpectedly called to the office, but he said to tell you he’d be home for dinner,” the man said as he unlocked the elevator that would take me and the movers directly into the penthouse. The man handed me a key and said, “This is your elevator key. It’s the only way to access the penthouse, so you need to put it somewhere secure and make sure you always carry it with you.”

“What if I get locked out?” I asked.

“There is a substantial lock-out fee, but since you are Mr. Connor’s guest,” he said with a pointed emphasis on guest without finishing the rest of the sentence. I resented him already, but I smiled politely as he gave me a lesson on how to utilize the smart-tech, all centrally located on a panel just left of the elevator. I understood most of what he explained, but my mind was on unpacking and settling in before Dax came back.

“…and if you need any services down at the spa or restaurant, here is the button you press to make your requests,” he finished.

“Thank you, I appreciate you taking the time to show me all of this,” I said, flashing him the sincerest fake smile I could muster.

“I’ll send the movers up with your things,” he said in a polite tone that matched my smile. I wanted to laugh, but I didn’t dare.

Forty-five minutes later, I was instructing the movers where to place the chair and dresser I’d brought with me and was feeling more than a little foolish. My furniture, although high quality and quite expensive, looked like IKEA knock-offs next to the high-end, modern furniture that graced the suite of rooms Dax had set up for me.

I hadn’t toured this part of the penthouse when I’d been there a few nights before, but I had wondered what was hidden behind the doors near the staircase that led up to Dax’s bedroom. Now I knew.

The room was an enormous replica of Dax’s master bedroom, except it was done in softer tones of tan, chocolate, and cream.

It stretched across the entire end of the penthouse and was larger than my two-bedroom apartment on Michigan Avenue. I had the movers store the furniture I’d brought in the bedroom-sized, walk-in closet while I looked around. The closet was more of a dressing room and had a dresser in the middle of the room that looked like a display shelf for either shoes or purses. I pulled open the drawers and found they were lined with paper that smelled of lavender.

“Nice touch, Connor,” I mumbled as I closed the drawer and spun around in place taking the entire room in. This space demanded a wardrobe, and while I had plenty of clothes, I did not have the wide range of clothing that the room seemed to demand. It occurred to me that my mother would have felt right at home here, and I laughed mirthlessly at the thought of it.